


Castles in the Sand

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Depression, Longing, M/M, Obsession, Possibly Unrequited Love, Virgin Armitage Hux, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A depressed General Hux and his secretive obsessive pining for Kylo Ren.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Kudos: 39





	Castles in the Sand

The sound of his own footsteps seemed too loud to his ears as General Hux walked down the familiar corridor. A pair of officers were talking to each other as he passed by, their hushed tones becoming mute as their eyes followed him, resuming again as he passed on – he could still hear faint indiscernible words intermingling with the noise of distant machinery, like the buzzing of a hive. He did not often make eye contact unless it was his intention to speak, and yet that day something drew him to the experiment. Hux could feel submission or defiance, discomfort or expectation upon the faces which he chose, as each man or woman guarded against his scrutiny – as if bracing themselves, an instinct he recognized even within himself -- and yet it oppressed him to become cognizant of it, reminding him of the impenetrable walls which surrounded the microcosm of half-living beings onboard the ship.

Armitage ate alone in his chamber, gazing distractedly through the small window. He recalled a certain thought which he had conjured long ago as a child, when his eyes would fixate upon a star in the sky and imagine that somewhere far away was one with whom his spirit would come to rest. Even as a man he could not put the feeling into words – this vague attraction, like a magnetic pull towards something which dwelled behind a black veil, certain that once he should glimpse it that it would know him fully, and he would know it. Hux felt it with a pagan faith born of instinct and emotion, suppressed deep beneath the rational and calculating, seeping into the core of his being, a thing which he never dared to speak of to anyone, as if doing so would violate the sacredness of this final romantic dream which the cold and self-serving man clung to as closely as the sniveling child.

Under a blazing sun young Armitage walked further and further from the camp, at first it was to escape punishment, but later it became escape for its own sake – he imagined that if he kept going towards the horizon he would reach a city of crystal which appeared only with the rays of the setting sun. He knew this was only a fairytale which his mother had read, yet in that moment he both believed and disbelieved, desiring a destination to fixate upon – one which he would never reach, and so he could keep walking, walking until his strength gave way.

His throat felt parched and his feet were blistered yet he forced himself to continue on through the dunes, subconsciously he suspected that if he allowed himself to think about returning he would realize that he was lost, that there was no return, and that he therefore had no choice but to carry on in blithe submission to death.

When at last his legs could move no further, he knelt in the sand and began to gather nearby stones into a circle, both a grave mound and an alter to the nameless gods which he pleaded to with the vehement desperation of a solitary being. 

Laying down in the sand with his head upon the stones, he succumbed to the deep exhaustion which had long oppressed him, imagining that the light of his star had taken human form and laid itself down beside him to rest – that they would both awake amid the city of crystal towers which glisten like icicles amid a shimmering light, too bright to gaze upon, a burning all-consuming warmth from which all souls are born and to which all souls return.

After they carried away his body, Hux spent several days in the medbay recovering from third-degree burns as a result of prolonged exposure to the sun. He remembered little after that, neither his father’s reprimands nor the jeering of the other boys seemed to matter – only since that day they all knew that there was something wrong with him, or so Hux had begun to believe, growing evermore distant and secretive. A man older and wiser than himself told him then that he had no choice but to make them fear him.

Ghosts of these memories visited Hux as he wandered amid the rubble-laden street of what once had been a market town. In the window of a watchtower he thought he saw the shadow of a figure but there was no one there when he had it searched. These and other mirages Armitage saved, allowing them to take shape again in the quiet hours of night – they were the elusive being which he associated with the pangs and strange convulsions in his stomach. Sometimes they were dull and oppressing, like being gently suffocated, at other times, rarely as he got older, the feeling would force itself upon him until he found release in sobs, relishing the momentary lapse into ignominy, his swollen face and running nose, the disgraceful half-stifled sound in his throat.

Nevertheless, he feared what would one day come, knowing all the while that so much was inevitable – that these visions of longing would take corporeal form.

Perhaps it was for the very reason that Ren hid behind a mask that Hux had chosen his rival as the embodiment – by the other’s unapproachability, by his apparent antipathy and coldness – Hux’s conscience had been slowly drawing the general closer and closer by strained and ambivalent movements until there was no escaping the dark flame which burned within him. He despised as much as he loved, feared as strongly as he desired – waiting, waiting for some external force to destroy both Ren and himself, seeing no other means to consummate these feelings which left him in a debilitating state of restlessness.

No kind or amorous words had ever passed his lips, only lingering there as he silently watched the other man during meetings, taking a twisted delight in the ignorance of those somber countenances on either side of him, sitting rigidly in the semblance of attention.

He wondered if behind their marionette-like veneer, they too contemplated their own maddening desires as they looked at the Supreme Leader. How many of them should like him dead, he mused, his eyes flickering clandestinely from face to face, until he met those of Pryde. Upon this man’s face he did not dwell, reminding him of the shame and incompetence of his own adolescence. Hux swallowed and returned his focus to the projections hovering over the long boardroom table, gliding and zooming in upon a luminescent map of a military base.

A man with a gray mustache was speaking, licking his lips intermittingly during his oration. Hux could see his yellow teeth, unusually jagged, and the cracked dry skin around the mouth – it bothered him to the point of distraction, he could not keep his eyes off of him the more he repulsed him. The general felt annoyed with himself, yet more and more these insignificant hyperfixations held him, making it more difficult to focus upon his work. A scratch upon the table, the sound of the ventilator, a wrinkle upon a collar – these things he had to correct, but could not.

The relative importance of his position, of his ambitions had been gradually fading -- Hux could clearly sense that he had fallen into disfavor and would not rise again, what was important and what was trifling could no longer be sifted.

He had given up and his time was like the sands of an hourglass which he longed to watch languidly with the smile of a casual bystander. For the first time in many years, he felt a yearning for idleness.

Instead, he was obliged to go through the motions of duty, feigning order and conscientious dedication without an aim – for there was no work left for him worthy of his interest. Indeed he was not alone in this feeling, for he became aware of a general sense of anticipation and unease, a period of uncertainty as is natural to subordinates in the absence of leadership. It appeared that Ren had little time for them, little need of them – his rule was silent and unintelligible. And so they waited, waited for some sign. In the interim, they maintained what was left of a previous reign. Hux knew that this droning apathy could not last long, currents would begin to form to drown out the ineffectual. Only, contrary to his expectations, this notion stirred neither hope nor dread in the general.

A weariness which he imagined would pass with the night cycle told him that he would not survive to see this new regime, whatever form it might take— he did not wish to. 

He would follow Ren into his demise, he would sense his doom as he would his own and allow himself to fall alongside the remaining entity which could stir his emotions. This was madness and delusion, and he delighted in it as he straightened his collar and pulled on his gloves, looking at the reflection in the mirror glass with a derisive smile. It pleased him to think that he could go mad at his own convenience, so long as he conducted himself with outward dignity.

Hours later, when he returned to his chamber, it was with a sense of relief to be alone again – he felt like a snake shedding an invisible skin. Hux had spoken little to anyone that day, and yet, it were as if a thousand inescapable falsehoods had been committed. He poured himself a cup of tea, a hot kettle had been waiting for him just as he had requested, only this aspect of routine did not soothe his nerves.

From beneath a hidden wall panel he slipped out a small device disconnected from the ship’s systems. Hux removed his boots, placing them neatly by the bed and laying down on top of the blanket still dressed in his uniform. He licked his lips and pressed them to the cold crystal of the black screen.

It glowed with a faint blue light, and as he traced his fingertips over it, images began to appear – many were cut off, blurry – fragments of a figure which Hux had collected and categorized for years. A profile framed by locks of curling dark hair and an arched nose– the man’s head trapped in the repetition of turning to look at something in the distance. His eyes appeared half-closed, perhaps due to the bright light over the dunes of the desert, seen through the lens of a droid – yet to the voyeur they had another meaning. 

Hux stared at the image of Ren, one he had seen many times before, but which continued to hold his interest – the masterpiece of his collection. Even while alone in his quarters he felt on edge, frightened that the nameless act which he was doing was unworthy of his dignity, a transgression of an unwritten more. Yet he could not resist the pull of the soothing image which he looked at like an icon of a deity, far removed from its model in the real world, believing that if he focused upon it before sleep then it would visit him in forbidden dreams.

Several night cycles passed before at last the dream vision came. Armitage was visited by the dark-haired man, who lay down beside him and held him in his arms, picking him up and carrying him over a rope and plank bridge beneath which rushing waters coursed in torrents. Yet he did not feel afraid, even as Ren held him naked over the precipice. He could feel the cold sting of the wind against his bare skin, covered in goosebumps, and at the same time a burning within him as fiery eyes seemed to pierce into his soul, his every thought and fantasy laid bare, flashing in a thousand visions so that Ren knew all that he was and could have been.

The setting changed and Armitage saw himself as an old man, wizen and balding, while Ren was still in his prime – Hux tottered towards him, suddenly afraid that the other should leave him there in the inhospitable valley, he felt pitifully frightened of the night – but Ren did not scorn to take his hand. They continued to walk, Hux’s bare feet stinging as they passed over the jagged rocks over a seemingly endless tundra. Gradually he could feel himself grow younger, as did Ren, a boy whose wails were overpowered by the deafening wind. The child clung to Hux’s leg as they braced themselves against the gusts.

A cave appeared before them and they entered, the wind growing silent and the sky becoming dark. Hux was in his uniform again, as was Ren, just as he remembered him during their last meeting – a long scar across his face. With an unrestrained neediness, the man pulled Hux close, kissing him, touching him until the earth seemed to crumble beneath them. The back of Hux’s head slammed against something hard and he awoke to find himself laying on the floor of his bedchamber, his legs tangled in the blanket.

He pulled himself up – it was still the middle of the night cycle. Armitage sighed heavily and then a feeling of shock came over him as he beheld the cracked screen of the small device which still showed Ren’s countenance in bleeding colors before turning completely black.

Hux knew that he would not repair it – this was the release from obsession which he had both yearned for and dreaded. With an effort of will, he took a knife from his bedside table and dug it into the screen, again and again he stabbed the device until there was little hope of it being salvaged, choking tears rolling down his face. With trembling hands, he picked up the remains and placed them back into the hiding place, walking slowly to the refresher.

As he stripped off his clothing he became aware of the disgusting reaction of his body – each time he vowed it was his last visit into the realm of sickly fantasy, and yet a part of him knew he would fail himself in this resolve – as long as he or Ren still lived, as long as hope and loneliness existed within him. He sunk into the warmth of the water, closing his eyes – praying to an unknown force for the strength to let go, and if not this, then that his own destruction may come soon for one whose ambitions had deserted him, for a man loathe to see himself walk further along the path of desperation.

“General Hux – Armitage,” he heard a voice speak his name, it seemed to echo in his mind – hoarse and uncertain.


End file.
